Chapter 3 #2
“Are you here to study or to try to get into the Mounty girl’s panties, because you should be warned, she only fucks crime lords,” Blaise laughs, and it’s like he dumped a bucket of ice over my head.
I shove his math workbook into his chest to shut him up.
Lance recovers from his shock to look down his nose at him, the first time he’s shown any sort of backbone.
“You think you’re cool because your daddy bought your shitty punk band a record deal? Go write another pathetic song about your feelings, dickhead, and stay out of my business.”
Holy shit.
My jaw drops and Blaise turns to stone beside me. Ash bursts out laughing so loud that the students around us stop and stare.
“They’re not going to find enough of your corpse to get an ID by the time we’re done with you.”
I scrub my face with my hands and then peg Lance with a look. “You didn’t want to take my advice at all then?”
He replies, shooting me a conspiratorial grin, “Mounties stick together. I don’t like the way they talk to you.”
My stomach lurches violently.
He’s from Mounts Bay.
Covering my discomfort with a scowl, I scoff at him as I shove my textbooks and supplies back into my bag. Ash looks between us with cold eyes, but I ignore him as I walk out.
I do not need the complication of another Mounty at this school, especially not one who’s hellbent on befriending me.
When she finally finishes her grueling schedule of torture for the day, more commonly known as ballet class, Avery finds me surrounded by enough textbooks to kill me if one of the stacks were to topple.
I barely register her getting back, my mind completely occupied with the task of cramming as quickly and efficiently as possible, and I only become aware of reality again when two bottles of nail polish appear in front of the page I’m reading.
I swear my toenails have been eight different colors since school started again, and it’s becoming an evening ritual for us. Avery only ever wears nude polish, but her collection of colors is insane. I’m a kind enough friend to let her paint my nails whenever she feels the need. Such a sacrifice.
I shut my textbook and roll my shoulders back, wincing when my joints pop. “Dealer’s choice.”
When I look up to meet her eyes, she’s grinning down at me like I’m her favorite person in the whole world.
I mean, I’m not stupid enough to actually believe that, not when Ash exists, but that self-check only reminds me of my afternoon, and I’m groaning about the impending cluster-fuck all over again.
Avery’s eyes narrow slightly before she’s corralling me up off of the floor, shooting me a disapproving look when I wince and limp a little. My bad leg hasn’t had a flare up in ages, but studying on our hardwood floor probably isn’t a smart idea, not when I lock in for hours without a single break.
Avery pulls the ottoman over to the foot of my bed, then piles up a mountain of pillows for me to sit on, and I’m sure I’ll get trapped in their comfort until the end of time.
When I first questioned our need for eight-thousand pillows, she looked at me like I was trying to murder her, and after a single week of having them, I get it.
All I can say is, thank God I’m emancipated, because going back to sleeping in the beds at the group home would be brutal.
It’s weird how quickly I’ve adjusted to this type of luxury, but I’m smart enough not to tell Avery that.
God only knows how she would raise the stakes, because that’s exactly the cutthroat tyrant she is.
I wouldn’t want it any other way, and I have to admit, it’s getting easier to be fussed over.
Honestly, I have no choice; Avery wouldn’t accept anything less.
By the time she’s got me set up just so, I cave. As she gets to work with the polish, I tell her everything. From the administration failing to email me, Ash’s shitty attitude, Blaise’s glee at the whole mess before it turned on him, all the way down to the Mounty kid… smiling at me.
I feel like I need a bleach bath. Or a gallon of whiskey.
Avery lets out a soft chuckle at the ripple of repulsion in me, her eyes practically sparkling at the prospect of destroying someone’s life even as they stay focused on her work.
“I’ll get a background check on him and see what we’re working with.
Only an idiot would single Blaise Morrison out like that, so it’s not going to be hard to deal with him. ”
Groaning, I slump onto my back and Avery swats my leg when it jostles her careful work with the polish. I wouldn’t be surprised if she scrubbed it off and started again, her perfectionism runs deep.
I sigh at the ceiling, a little over dramatic. “I doubt you’ll get anything on him; I don’t recognize him and I’ve never heard his name before. He’s probably from a middle-class area and has no clue what he’s really dealing with here.”
She hums under her breath and studies her handiwork. I can practically see the cogs in her brain turning as she chews over the details and carefully curates her own toolbox of nightmares to set on the guy.
“Do you always avenge the guys when people insult them? It puts a lot of work on your plate,” I ask. I’m genuinely curious.
She screws the bottle of polish shut and puts it back into the shelving unit she’s had hung on the wall.
I find it funny that I was so worried about pissing her off by being messy when we first moved in.
Her belongings are slowly migrating into my half of the room, purely by need because she has so damn much.
I think she has a shopping compulsion. Last week, she misplaced some of her dance gear and the next day I woke up to find dozens of boxes being delivered to replace it all.
“People stay in power by being proactive. If I let the Mounty boy insult Blaise without consequence, then what’s to stop one of the privileged kids from doing it? It keeps me busy and the sheep where they belong.”
My head tilts as I consider her words. It sounds like something the Jackal would say, and it’s exactly why I’ve always struggled with this type of politics.
I just don’t care about the social hierarchy.
However, it’s also Avery’s bread and butter, so I’ll pitch in, it’s not a hardship.
I can’t say that I’m not interested in seeing her work up close.
The opportunity to learn from a master isn’t something I’d turn my nose up at, and Avery Beaumont is a freaking genius at this shit.
I shrug. “So, what do we do?”
She gives me a look and sighs. “I’ll look into his background and find his weak spots.
Blaise will beat the crap out of him, and I’ll turn him into a pariah.
He’s not a danger to us, so he’s low on the priority list, but I’ll just make it known that we don’t like him and the lower students will do most of the work for us. ”
I hum under my breath for a minute while I think, my mind wandering back to the fury in Blaise’s eyes at Lance’s comments earlier no matter how much I try to avoid it.
The indignation, the way he faltered for a second, the glance he stole of me before he went nuclear.
All of it stays itching at me but I have no idea why, or how to act around him now without getting my head ripped off.
It’s a mess.
I’m still stewing over it when Avery pokes me. “What’s your truth today, Mounty?” she continues with a smirk.
I groan and scrub a hand over my face. “I don’t know how to flirt.”
She laughs at me and says, “That’s not a truth. That’s a sad revelation. We need to get out of this school and find some hot, random guys to play with.”
That doesn’t appeal to me at all. I don’t want random hot guys.
I want a mobster’s son with the face of an angel and the rap sheet of a street kid.
I want the singer with a soft heart wrapped in barbs and trip wires of devastating wit to keep it safe.
I want the billionaire’s unwanted son with eyes of ice and an endless love for his sister.
I can’t tell Avery that truth.
She gives me a little smile, but her eyes are sad. She doesn’t look like a Beaumont right now. She looks like a teenage girl who needs a hug. It’s weird. “I think I’m going to start dating again. It’s time to wash away Rory and what he did to me.”
I exhale sharply. “If you think the guys are protective, you have another thing coming. I’m vetting anyone that comes near you and they’re going to answer to me. I’m also going to teach you how to castrate a guy properly. I mean it, I’m going to teach you how to cut a dick off.”
Avery laughs all over again and the haunted look fades from her eyes.